


Under

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Shot, dub-con, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Potter hates Scorpius. This is common knowledge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This one’s a little dark with a touch of violence, a bit of breath play, and a dub-con-ish moment, so, you know, be warned.  
> Written for the_ass_fest over on LiveJournal; prompt: “It never even occurred to me that maybe I was...that maybe I was falling in love." -- Michael Thomas Ford, Looking For It
> 
> Beta: tray_la_la, uninhibited333, and abusing_sarcasm
> 
> Disclaimer:: This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, her publishers and associated movie studios. No profit was made from this work. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of 18(“How?” you ask? The smexy parts are in their seventh year and my boys always have birthdays in the early fall. :P).

Under

Albus Potter hates Scorpius. This is common knowledge. He has always hated Scorpius and has never made a secret of it. Maybe there was a reason behind it once, something beyond Albus being Albus and Scorpius being Scorpius, but whatever it was, it’s long since been lost to time and the churning of the Hogwarts rumour mill. All that remains, all that matters now, is the simple fact that Albus Potter hates Scorpius.

The strange part is that James and Lily Potter do not hate Scorpius. They are in Gryffindor together, the three of them. James and Scorpius play Quidditch together on the house team. Lily often throws herself into Scorpius’s lap and pushes her hands through his hair, claiming it feels like a unicorn’s mane. Whenever Albus visits the Gryffindor common room and attacks Scorpius with insults or tries to glare him into the grave, James and Lily give Scorpius apologetic looks, embarrassed by their brother’s behaviour. Scorpius always gives them a wry smile in return, a silent assurance that he’s okay.

And he is okay. Growing up with Draco Malfoy for a father, Scorpius realised early on that hatred that seems born of nothing often reflects a hidden vulnerability. Anyone who has ever heard his father rant about Harry Potter can’t help but notice the still-sharp sting of rejection behind the vitriol. Scorpius understands this, and so Albus’s hatred does not upset him. If anything, it makes Scorpius feel oddly protective of Albus and he does his best to avoid antagonising him. Scorpius knows some of the other students suspect he is afraid of Albus (after all, Albus is not only a Slytherin, he is also Harry Potter’s son – a formidable combination), but Scorpius doesn’t concern himself with this. Those who matter know it isn’t true.

For all the heated stares and verbal abuse Albus sends in his direction, though, it has never come to violence. In fact, Albus has never touched Scorpius at all, not even an accidental jostling of elbows in a crowded hallway. If anything, Albus seems to go out of his way to avoid letting Scorpius anywhere near his personal space. Which is why, one night when he is heading back to Gryffindor Tower after studying in the library, Scorpius is surprised to be accosted by Albus, to be yanked into an empty classroom and shoved up against the closing door. 

Albus’s eyes have a wild, lost look to them and he is snarling, actually snarling, as one hand closes around Scorpius’s throat and squeezes. 

“I hate you,” he says, his voice like grinding rock. “I hate you.”

Scorpius stares, trying to figure out what has pushed Albus over the edge like this, trying to determine if Albus is actually going to hurt him. Then he feels Albus’s hand at his waistband, undoing his trousers, wrapping around his cock. He wants to look down, needing to actually _see_ Albus’s hand on his cock to believe it, but he can’t tear his gaze from Albus’s eyes. They gleam darkly, speaking to Scorpius, trying to tell him all of Albus’s secrets, but he can’t understand what they’re saying. 

Albus’s hand starts to move, pulling Scorpius’s cock with hard, sure strokes. His grip is too tight, and Scorpius winces with pain even as his cock fills. Albus’s other hand is still on his throat, squeezing harder now, and Scorpius can’t get enough air, working to drag in each burning breath. After only a few minutes, he feels alarmingly dizzy, though whether it’s from lack of oxygen or the brutal hand on his cock, he can’t tell. Either way, he’s sure he won’t remain conscious much longer. His hands come up to grapple at Albus’s fingers, prying them off of his neck just as his orgasm hits. It shudders through him and he braces himself against Albus’s body; he hears the sound of his come splattering on the floor. When he looks down, he sees it on the stones and on Albus’s sleeve. Albus pulls away abruptly, leaning weakly against a nearby desk. Scorpius lets himself collapse on the floor and tries to catch his breath.

Over the next few months, Scorpius learns that this is the most dangerous time with Albus, when the fucking is over and the come is drying on their stomachs or dripping down their thighs; the minutes after Albus comes down from the rush of orgasm, when his loose jaw goes suddenly tight and his shoulders tense, rising steadily and inexorably in a prickly posture of defensiveness. This is the time when Albus is most unpredictable. He might turn on Scorpius, calling him names and casting aspersions on his sexual abilities, his intellect or his appearance. He might rise suddenly and leave the room only half-dressed, apparently driven out by the overwhelming need to be away from Scorpius. Once, the first time Scorpius gave Albus a blowjob, afterwards Albus bit Scorpius’s hand so hard it broke the skin, bright red blood beading up between his thumb and forefinger. Another time, the third time Scorpius fucked him, Albus punched him in the face. 

Other times, he becomes soft, almost needy. He presses his face into Scorpius’s throat and breathes deeply, as if trying to draw Scorpius into his lungs. Sometimes he whispers apologies, especially if he has been rough or if he wanted Scorpius to be rough with him, his lips brushing against Scorpius’s ear, his voice so soft that Scorpius has to hold his breath to hear it. Lately, he’s taken to holding Scorpius’s hand, not loosely or casually, but determinedly, each fingertip pressing small, round bruises into Scorpius’s skin. He holds Scorpius’s hand as if it is an act of defiance, but what inner edict Albus is defying, Scorpius still isn’t sure. 

Even though these moments are dangerous, they are the moments when Scorpius feels closest to Albus. He looks at Albus and he can see the emotions moving across his face as Albus wrestles with those mysterious demons that won’t let him have what he desires or push him to desire what he does not want. His eyes flutter closed and open again with a snap, they grow unfocused with deep thought, they flare with anger. Twice, they have gleamed wetly with unshed tears. His mouth twists, frowning or smirking or, very occasionally, smiling softly. In these moments, Scorpius knows he is seeing something that no one else ever sees. It is these moments that keep him coming back.

It is at one such moment, when Albus’s fingers are twined around his like a choking vine and he can see the struggle going on behind Albus’s green, green eyes, that Scorpius realises maybe he is in love with Albus. Perhaps he gasps or flinches, he doesn’t really know, but Scorpius knows he does something because Albus turns to look at him, his eyes fever-bright and a question on his face.

Scorpius studies him for a long minute, trying to decipher the look Albus is giving him but he can’t. “You hate me,” he says at last and he can hear in his voice what is left unspoken.

“Yes,” Albus whispers fervently, his grip on Scorpius’s hand growing that much tighter.

“Yes,” Scorpius repeats, nodding once, his grip tightening in return.

~~~


End file.
